This weekend I inadvertently cut myself three times and got scratched (where blood was drawn) twice. Hence, I'm a band-aided bloody mess today. (I mean that in both the British sense and in the literal sense.)
First, the cat wounds:
1 & 2. When you're holding a kitten, try to keep your face out of striking distance. I got a claw stuck in my left ear (I still don't understand how that happened....) and a claw swipe across my nose. Apparently Mies thinks that my face is an awesome play thing. (I sort of felt like Oscar De La Hoya...don't hit this pretty face....) Face wounds bleed a lot too. (Guys can probably attest to that because of experience with shaving nicks.) It's hard to remember not to pick him up and hold his little kitten face near mine.....but he's definitely given me some tools to help me remember now. Also, stuffing kleenex in your ear and your nose is a great way to soak up the blood...but not that glamorous when you go to the grocery store and forget that you have something stuck in your ear and the cashier asks you about it and then you remember and show her a bloody kleenex..... People are pretty frightened of blood these days.
Now the self-inflicted wounds:
3. I was talking to my brother and cutting fruit to put in the freezer so that I can have the correct consistency in my morning smoothie (I can't stand the consistency of unfrozen bananas....so slimey) when I sliced through a portion of my left thumb. YEEOWWWWWCH! I immediately bled everywhere (even on the fruit) and then somehow got blood on my refrigerator door handle, my elbow, my cheek and the cabinet door INSTANTANEOUSLY. Sort of like that old SNL skit where "Julia Childs" cuts her thumb and squirts blood everywhere. My brother quickly begged off our call (probably because I was yelling about how much my thumb hurt) and I tried to figure out whether I needed to apply a tourniquet to my finger. Deciding that the cut looked much worse than it was, I wrapped a paper towel around my finger and hosed down my kitchen. Basically, the whole area was a biohazard. I kept bumping my thumb so I had to put a bandaid on it to stop the blood from re-biohazarding (?) the areas that I cleaned. On a positive note, I ended up deciding to give my kitchen a good scrub down and cleaned and disinfected everything (even those little trays under the burners on the stove top). I still have a bandaid on today because this morning I re-bumped my thumb and it started bleeding again. When will this ever stop? Do I need to drink extra water to make up for the blood loss?
4. I had a scab on my left elbow. I say "had" because I had to play with it and, of course, I picked it off and there was blood. It's a Mack injury because we lay back on our elbows when we do abs and I somehow got a raw spot on my elbow. So...I had to put a bandaid on my elbow to stop THAT bleeding too.
5. To add insult to injury or, rather, to add injury to injury. I cut the hell out of the skin around my Achilles tendon in this morning while shaving my legs. That type of cut ALSO never stops bleeding. I didn't realize it until I was putting my pants and saw the bloody mess around my ankles. Yeesh. Luckily I have on black pants...and a band aid. I haven't cut my legs shaving for a while but I used to do it all the time. When I lived in Hollywood, I used to go to this ultra fancy expensive gym called Equinox where movie and tv stars always worked out. I saw Will Ferrell on the treadmill there once! Anyway, I cut the heck out of my leg shaving there and I didn't have anything to stop the bleeding. So...from the showers, I quickly walked over to the bathrooms and wrapped toilet paper around my leg wound. I couldn't walk quickly because I was in a towel and t he ground was slippery and wet. I left a blood footprint trail from the showers to the toilet area. The maintenance people (I know this because they wear black outfits with the word "maintenance" across their chests) quickly mobilized and cleaned up the "bio" mess. I, of course, was apologizing profusely to their disapproving looks. By the way, the trainers all wear shirts that say "train" across their chests there too. Sort of a sprocket-type place. I guess we couldn't figure out who was a trainer and who was a maintenance person without those identifiers. The head "maintainer" just shook her head at my mess and she brought me a band aid from her secret stash. (I gave her a big tip that Christmas.) Since then, I've been very careful not to cut myself while shaving because of the big production it was at that gym. Of course, I'm at home now and although I don't wear a "maintain" shirt, I q uickly mobilized to clean up the blood and cover my wound. (They trained me well.)
In sum, I look like I had a date with Edward Scissorhands.
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